


Primal

by st_mick



Category: Torchwood
Genre: For Good, Grief/Comfort, Jack really needs to take the pheromone spray away from Owen, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post Cyberwoman, Pre Small Worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto is fully prepared to face any punishment Torchwood wishes to devise, before they finally execute him.  Or so he thinks...
Relationships: Jack Harkness & Ianto Jones
Comments: 65
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shades of Ianto: Prologue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/309911) by [sarcasticchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticchick/pseuds/sarcasticchick). 



> So a while back I read sarcasticchick's "Shades of Ianto" series. It is quite excellent, and I highly recommend it. There's a scene in the Prologue of that series that has Owen dosing Ianto with the pheromone spray - just to be a jerk. Jack helps Ianto… cope. But that scene got me wondering - what would happen if it went in a different direction? And because I can't tolerate such behavior, even from Owen, what if there was a legitimate reason behind the incident?
> 
> So with all these what-if's, and with Niffler still stubbornly silent (I swear, I _will_ get back to it - so many ideas...) I decided to see where this one would go. Lots of grief/comfort, lots of angst. And apparently, Ianto's dad can't catch a break, in any of my fics. Guy's just determined to be a bastard.
> 
> This is complete, and I plan to post a chapter a day.

“Oi, about time you showed up,” Owen groused as Ianto entered the lab.

Ianto flinched inwardly, but did not allow anything to show. Perhaps that was only prolonging the torment – maybe if he let them see just how difficult this all was for him, things could finally progress to their natural conclusion, here. But he did not deserve a quick and easy end. He deserved every punishment they could devise. He just wondered how long it would last.

It was an idle curiosity, of course. He found he really didn’t much care, one way or the other. As long as it would eventually end. _That_ was something he could look forward to. He vaguely hoped it would be soon, though.

“This place is a mess,” Owen continued his bitching. “Clean that lot up, over there,” he waved a hand carelessly at one of the lab tables along the side wall. “I need the space.”

Ianto did not rush to comply. He did have his pride, after all. They could have this time to punish him – he owed them that. But as righteous as they might feel, they were not faultless. And while he would submit to his penance willingly, and even humbly, he would not do so without the last shred of dignity he possessed.

After all, it was the only thing he had left, this pretense of poise and self-possession. He would not relinquish it, if he could help it. Sometimes he believed it was all that held him together. All that kept him going.

He squared his shoulders (something he knew drove Owen up a tree) and found a bin bag, which he then proceeded to fill with the detritus of Owen’s latest project. He had read something about it in Owen’s weekly report to Jack. Something to do with the pheromone spray, which he’d had to obtain special permission from Jack to work with in order to reverse engineer some bollocks or other. Ianto really couldn’t be arsed to keep track, though he knew that if he made the attempt he would remember all of the details of the project in perfect detail.

He was just not willing to make the attempt. Which was how he was completely blindsided by what happened next.

“Shit,” he hissed, pulling his hand away from one of the piles of wadded up paper and takeout containers. Looking at his hand, he noticed his fingers were bleeding. He carefully moved several items and saw the broken glass that had injured him. “Owen, there’s broken glass over here. Why didn’t you throw it into the Sharps container?” He looked around for a rag so he wouldn’t bleed on his suit.

“Oh, cut yourself, did you?” Owen asked jovially. “You should be more careful.”

“Your concern is overwhelming. Anything I need to be concerned about?” Ianto asked, frowning. He felt a little strange, all of a sudden. He shook his head. Probably just his imagination. He usually felt a little off, lately. Couldn’t bring himself to eat enough to keep his blood sugar stabilized, so he was always a bit light-headed.

Nothing serious, mind. He always managed to choke down enough to keep himself from collapsing. He wasn’t certain when he’d learned how to walk that knife’s edge, but it came in handy, now that he couldn’t even look at food without feeling the need to vomit up the nonexistent contents of his stomach.

He wasn’t sure how long one could survive on a half-slice of toast every day or two, but he was fairly certain it didn’t matter. He was convinced that once Jack read his latest report, the wait would finally be over.

It was a relief, really.

The bin bag dropped from his fingers, which all of a sudden refused to respond to his commands. “What?” He shook his head. He felt a bit flushed, and his extremities were oddly distant. He looked at Owen, and… He kept looking. Why was Owen so damned… _compelling_ … all of a sudden?

Owen smirked. “Feeling a bit warm, are you, Tea Boy?”

“Owen, what’s going on?” Ianto heard the slur in his words. He took a step closer to Owen, every instinct screaming against the compulsion. He looked at his bleeding fingers again, dripping onto the floor. He idly wondered who’d be cleaning that up. Wouldn’t be him. Owen clearly had plans for his punishment, before they finally ended this ridiculous game. He fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief and wrapped it around his fingers, trying to staunch the flow.

“Oh, just my first pass at the compound. You should tell me how you’re feeling, actually. You know, for science.” He smirked again and looked Ianto up and down. “Funny, I’d think you’d be feeling the effects, by now. Tell me, have you always been slow to arouse?”

Ianto frowned. “I don’t…” he trailed off. Arouse? _What the hell?_ “What have you done?” He took another step towards Owen. He _really_ didn’t want to. But he simply had to. He frowned and tried to get ahold of himself.

“There’s this primal part of the brain – they call it the lizard brain – that the pheromone spray triggers. I wondered what would happen if we developed a compound to somehow inflame that part of the brain.”

“To what end?” Ianto barely kept himself from taking another step forward, but he was leaning towards Owen quite a bit more than he’d have liked.

“Well, if we could activate that part of the brain, and then find a way to manipulate it,” Owen shrugged. “Might eventually be able to find a way to pacify hostile creatures.” He grinned, and it was an unfriendly thing. “Or simply incapacitate them. You see, the lizard brain is where the fight, flight, or freeze instinct originates. But there’s a fourth “f”, you see. One that’s far easier to activate and then use against someone.”

“And that is?” _Goddammit_ , Ianto swore to himself as he took another step towards Owen.

“Oh, you can’t be that naïve, Tea Boy. After all, you played Captain Jack _Harkness_ ,” Owen laughed nastily. “You seemed to know exactly how to activate his ‘fuck’ instinct, didn’t you?”

“What?” Ianto’s eyes widened. “I… that’s not true!”

“Oh, you may not have fucked him,” Owen shrugged, conceding the point. “But you sure as hell took advantage of his lust. Played our good captain for a right fool.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Ianto muttered, his head hanging. He felt like his blood was boiling in his veins. And something frightening was rising within him, and he wasn’t sure he could contain it.

“Just trying to distract him, right?” Owen sneered. “So you could continue to hide that _thing_ in the basement?”

Ianto understood, now. He could barely hear Owen over the sound of the blood roaring through his body. But he understood. Definitely another punishment, but this one would be different. He felt himself panic, just a bit. “So you figured you’d rape me?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Owen scoffed. He held up a pair of handcuffs. “Just going to restrain you and let the effects play out.” He pointed to the CCTV camera in the corner of the room. “Should get some good footage. The girls’ll appreciate that. And with no one in reach, I figure you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself, particularly once I use the pheromone spray.”

“Against my will?” Ianto gritted. He began fighting the lizard, a dark, slithery thing coiling through his mind and body. He’d be damned if he’d allow them to humiliate him, in that way. He had no objections to punishment. He deserved no less. But this…

This was something different, entirely.

“Oh, you’ll be willing enough,” Owen mocked. He swung the cuffs. “Now come to Uncle Owen, like a good little boy,” he crooned. “C’mon, Tea Boy. You’ll enjoy it, at least until everyone sees the footage.”

It would come as no surprise to Owen that if the so-called lizard brain were laid out like a circuit board, there would be two sets of toggles. One toggle, which his formula had left in the neutral position, could be flipped up for _flight_ or down for _freeze_. And the other toggle, which this iteration of the formula had been specifically designed to flip, could either go up for _fuck_ or down for _fight_.

He had put a good deal of planning into this, once he’d begun his work and the obsession with punishing Ianto had taken hold. He had deliberately zeroed in on this particular toggle, and done everything he could to ensure that the formula would flip the toggle up – because he wanted nothing more than to fuck with the Tea Boy.

What he hadn’t counted on was the sheer bloody-minded stubbornness of the Welshman. Or his particular psychic aptitudes that made it possible for him to fight the formula, in the first place. So it came as a singular, unpleasant surprise when Ianto’s struggle flipped the toggle (which the formula ensured could _not_ stay in the neutral position) _down_ , rather than up.

Owen never stood a chance. After all, he had completely fucked with the most primal area of Ianto’s brain. Owen had sown the seeds of his own failure, for he enhanced that area of Ianto’s brain, and the survival instincts that were already so strong ensured that the humiliation that would have truly ended the younger man could not happen.

Flight, freeze, and fuck were in this moment not relevant.

Ianto was on him in seconds, a haymaker sending Owen off balance and following with several hard body blows. A vicious right hook sent him to the floor, his ears ringing. Once down, Ianto was on him, swinging away. And he was not pulling any of his punches. Owen’s own lizard brain engaged, realizing he was in true mortal peril.

Every part of Ianto’s being was fighting that toggle, steadfastly attempting to keep it away from the “fuck” position. So only the smallest corner of his brain registered the fact that he was about to kill his co-worker.

And it felt bloody _sublime_.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else feel as though they're living in a Dali painting? Time's gone all wonky, and the world has suddenly dialed up the surreal. I'm still going in to work, but it's a strange ghost town. So my routine is helping, as is the insanity of work (which is hopefully starting to calm down, after the initial scramble), but everything is weird and isolating. So maybe that's where the angst and sadness in this are coming from, and the wish for comfort. Don't know. Just glad I was finally able to string together a few words.
> 
> Anyway, as always, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy. Please kudo and comment accordingly. It really is inspiring, to hear from folks.
> 
> Stay safe, and be well. Be kind to one another. After all, we're all in this together, even if we're on our own little islands, at the moment.  
> ❤


	2. Chapter 2

Ianto continued to pummel Owen, blind with a lust that was of an entirely different variety than the one Owen had attempted to manipulate. The dark, slithering lizard inside rewarded each punch with a jolt of endorphins. He couldn’t have stopped if he’d been in his right mind to even try.

“Ianto, stop!”

Suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around his waist, and he was being hauled bodily away from Owen. He was set on his feet next to the lab table holding the broken glass that had started all of this. As a bit of distance was gained, his head cleared and the desire to kill Owen waned, the slightest bit. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked up.

Jack was standing there, looking from Ianto to Owen. “You all right there, Owen?”

A pitiful groan was all the reply he seemed to require before turning back to Ianto, who looked strung out and desperate. “Are you all right?”

“I’d like to kill him just a little bit more, please,” Ianto replied calmly. He took a deep breath, and lost his hold on the toggle as his senses were filled with Jack’s pheromones.

_FUCK!_

The black, slithering thing that had been happy enough to beat Owen to a pulp came roaring back to life. Ianto gritted his teeth and began to fight again.

“Ianto,” Jack sighed. “C’mon. It’s all right. Let’s get out of here, and you can do whatever it is you need to do. We can fight, or we can…”

Ianto growled, then hissed. “No!”

Jack turned to Owen and spat, “Get up, Doctor Harper. You should have the decency to witness what you’ve wrought. What the hell were you thinking? First, do no harm? Ring any bells?”

Owen winced at the invocation of the Hippocratic Oath. It was one of the few things in his life that he had ever held sacred. He couldn’t explain what had possessed him to target Ianto the way he had, but his head was slowly clearing, and he was beginning to pull himself together. He sat up and gingerly moved so his back was resting against one of the other lab tables. He stared at Ianto, fascinated. No way should the kid be able to fight the formula, but that was exactly what he was doing.

Jack turned back to Ianto and tried for a soothing tone. “Hey, come on. It’ll be all right. This was my fault. The least I can do is to help you weather this.”

“I’ll not use you, Sir,” Ianto gritted. He was burning up, again. He had shot past aroused and now felt sick with the hormones coursing through his system, making him painfully hard but feeling no pleasure from the arousal. Rather, it was a burning feeling of desperation and illness. When he had given in to the lizard, his blood had actually cooled, and he’d found some semblance of relief as he’d beaten Owen. But he was not willing to give in to this thing, with Jack.

“Not using me, if I’m offering,” Jack gave an unconvincing grin as he spread his arms. He was angry as hell at Owen. And worried about Ianto, who was fighting the effects of Owen’s formula, but looking the worse for the battle. He stepped closer to Ianto, hoping to force the younger man’s hand and somehow provide some relief.

“No!” Ianto gritted again, reaching out and grabbing Jack’s shirts, taking a great handful of material at the center of Jack’s chest and wadding it in his left fist. His left arm extended until his elbow locked, and he managed to create a bit of distance by stepping back with his right foot. He was taking deep, gasping breaths, being sure to suck the air in through his mouth to avoid Jack’s scent.

Jack looked down at the hand clenching his shirts with a white-knuckled grip. Ianto seemed close to hyperventilating, and Jack was racing past concerned to arrive at actively worried. “Ianto, really. It’s fine. Come on, you’re going to do yourself harm, fighting it, like this.”

“I’ll take the harm, then,” Ianto panted. “I’m fine with whatever punishments you devise, but this is too much, Sir.”

“Punishments?” Jack frowned, confused. He looked at Owen, who looked equally baffled.

“I understand that you’ll want to punish me sufficiently before my execution, Sir,” Ianto gasped out, and Jack felt the floor drop away from him. “I understand that, and I accept it. But this… This is too much.”

“Ianto,” Jack looked at Owen again, and saw that the medic shared his shock. “I… I’m not going to execute you. I never was. Your only punishment was the suspension.”

Ianto’s head snapped up at those words, and he stared at Jack, long and hard. “That’s…” He shook his head. “No, that can’t be true. Every day has been…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Jack knew that Ianto was saying that every day since his return from his suspension – a bit more than two weeks ago, now – had been a punishment. He now regretted not reining in the behavior of the team, but he’d been hoping that once they got their anger out of their collective system, they could move on, as a team.

Ianto went on, still gasping for breath. “And my report, this morning. It’s the plan for overhauling the archives. I assumed you’d be done with me soon, once you realized that my replacement could just use it as a blueprint. It was the only thing that was left for me to finish.” He looked at Jack, anguish apparent, over and above what he was suffering due to Owen’s formula. “You mean this isn’t over?”

“Ianto, I am so sorry,” Jack said, clasping the younger man’s wrist in both of his hands. It was all the contact he felt he could get away with, without violating the younger man further. He thought Ianto had understood that his punishment was limited to the suspension. But then he remembered his actual words.

It had been the day after it had all gone to hell. Jack had made Ianto clean up the hub and help dispose of the conversion table. He had also made the younger man help dispose of both Dr. Tanizaki and Annie Morgan, the unfortunate pizza delivery girl. Finally, once Owen was done looking over Lisa’s remains, Jack had forced Ianto to place her in the furnace as well, to be sure the tech could do no further damage.

In retrospect, Jack was not proud of his actions, but he had been _so_ angry. Ianto’s betrayal had cut far more deeply than he’d cared to admit. But the next day, his temper had cooled enough that he had Owen ensure that Ianto’s injuries were not life-threatening, and he informed the younger man that he was suspended.

“You’ll return to work in four weeks,” he’d said, and left it at that. No formal explanation or debriefing. No allowance for the younger man’s state of mind.

Jack swore at himself, only now realizing how that one declaration had given no context, nothing that would help the younger man understand that the suspension was to be his only penance. So Ianto, with his guilty conscience, had returned to work after four weeks, expecting (and receiving) punishment and anticipating it would eventually culminate in his execution.

“You must think us unspeakably cruel,” Jack said, his voice pitched low.

“My only frame of reference was One,” Ianto replied, causing Jack to flinch. “Their justice was normally quite swift, but I knew I didn’t deserve that sort of mercy.”

“Ianto,” Jack gave the younger man’s wrist another squeeze, “you deserve every mercy.” He glanced at Owen, who still looked gobsmacked beneath his quickly developing bruises.

Jack felt heartily ashamed. Here he was, congratulating himself on how well he had learned his lessons in forgiveness from the Doctor, and he had missed the most vital step – communicating that forgiveness to Ianto.

And just what was he so proud of himself for, anyway? Was it not his unforgiveness of all things One that had allowed Ianto to disappear so effectively? Had Jack truly emulated the Doctor, he would have taken care of the survivors. Ianto would have been unable to hide, and perhaps he would now have no reason to feel the need to be punished.

“Ianto, I owe you an apology,” Jack said, looking earnestly at the younger man. “I should have told you that day. We should have sat down and talked it all through. But we all needed a bit of time and space, so I suspended you. And that was it. That was meant to be the only punishment.” He shot Owen a look, and the doctor had the good grace to hang his head. “Ianto, I forgive you. I forgave you almost as soon as the dust had settled.”

“But,” Ianto frowned, confused. “How can that be?” He gasped, and Jack did not like the odd color Ianto’s complexion had taken on. It was somewhere between rose and cherry, and not at all healthy-looking. “What I did was unforgivable,” he declared. Then he shook his head. “And no one has behaved in a way that would lead me to believe that forgiveness was even possible.” He frowned. “No, that’s not true. Toshiko has tried. But still… I-I don’t deserve…” A sob escaped between gasps.

“There’s still some anger, but less and less,” Jack said quietly. “But you are forgiven, Ianto.”

Ianto shook his head. “If that were true, I’d not be experiencing a convincing simulation of my skin melting, right now.”

Jack frowned. He could only feel Ianto’s hand and wrist, but the skin was quite warm. “Owen, what can we do – is there a way to reverse the effects?”

“I didn’t get that far,” Owen groaned.

Jack went still. “You mean you exposed someone to an experimental compound without fully vetting it, knowing all of the risks, or having any sort of remedy?”

“If he’d just let it take its course, he’d be fine,” Owen grumbled, dabbing at the blood dripping from his nose.

“And you know this, how?” Jack asked. He pointed at Owen. “You and I will be having words, Dr. Harper.”

It was then that Ianto’s legs gave way.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Ianto crashed hard to his knees and Jack was dragged down as well, because Ianto still had a firm grip on the older man’s shirt. “Ianto?” Jack asked, now moving well past worried. “Please, let me help.”

Ianto still held Jack at arm’s length. He had fallen forward and was holding himself up with his right hand spread wide on the floor. His head hung and he seemed to be struggling for breath. “No!” he cried, his breaths coming in great, heaving gasps.

“Owen, can you sedate him?” Jack asked, desperate to relieve Ianto’s suffering.

Owen shook his head as he stood unsteadily. “Not without doing a lot of harm.” He gave an exasperated huff. “C’mon, Tea Boy. Suck it up and let the Captain blow you, or something. Probably do you a world of good.”

Jack watched in horror as Ianto’s distress redoubled. “No!” he gave a desperate shout, his voice shaking.

“Owen, shut the hell up and figure out a way to help him. Because if any harm comes to him because of this, so help me, it’ll come out of your hide.”

Owen took a step back at the heat of Jack’s ire. He looked at Ianto and was rattled by the younger man’s distress. He could tell from Ianto’s breathing that he was heading for a major event of some sort, if they couldn’t calm him. But the only thing that was sure to calm him was apparently off the table. Weird, because Owen would have been willing to bet any amount that the Tea Boy would jump at the chance to bone the boss.

“Quarantine,” Ianto gasped.

“What?” Jack and Owen both asked.

“Put me in quarantine,” Ianto panted. “Clean room. No t-triggers.” He sobbed. “Please,” he begged. “If this isn’t my punishment,” he coughed. “Please help me.”

“Right,” Owen said. “I’ll go open the room. Jack, can you get him down there, on your own?”

“Go. We’ll be right behind you,” Jack said, watching Ianto closely. Ianto still had a death grip on his shirtfront, but Jack had noticed something else. Something soft and subtle that made his heart ache.

Ianto was probably not even aware of the small movement of his hand, his knuckles brushing softly against Jack’s chest, through his shirts. It spoke to how touch-starved the younger man was, and Jack wondered when the last time Ianto had deliberately touched someone, other than Lisa while she was half-converted. He realized that the last normal touch Ianto had experienced had probably been months ago now, before the battle.

It was no wonder that, when Jack’s flirtations led him to brush Ianto’s fingers lightly when receiving a file or his coffee mug, Ianto had reacted the way he had. Jack had loved the reaction – the blushing, stammering, flustered stuttering – he’d thought it was cute. But now, he realized it was because it was the only contact Ianto had received in _months_ , and it had only served to exacerbate his isolation and loneliness.

Jack was an incredibly tactile individual, so it was completely unimaginable to him, the level of deprivation Ianto had been suffering. What was baffling was that he now had a willing offer of relief, and he was not jumping at the chance, despite his very clear (and, Jack couldn’t help but notice, very _impressive_ ) need.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” he asked quietly.

Ianto gasped and then coughed, and it was only quick reflexes that enabled Jack to position a small bin beneath Ianto as he vomited his half slice of toast breakfast. Ianto sat back on his haunches, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and gasping for breath. “Don’t… Want…” he panted, and Jack felt a disappointment he had no right to feel. But then Ianto continued, “Not… Like… This…” He leaned back over and retched again.

That brought Jack up short. Ianto didn’t want him, _not like this_. But the clear implication was that he did, in fact, want him.

Wasn’t it?

“Ianto, what do you mean?”

But Ianto couldn’t answer. His breathing was becoming more distressed again as he panicked, his sharp gasps filling the room. “Jack, I don’t know how much longer I can fight this,” he gritted out between short gulps of air. “Please don’t let this happen. Not like this. Not without knowing… where I stand. Please, Jack. Not against my will.”

Jack understood Ianto’s fear. If he really did want Jack, and something happened because of Owen’s compound, things between them would be tainted, because for Ianto it would be forced. And even though he knew Jack wasn’t there to take advantage of the situation, it would always seem like something the boss was doing because he had to, not because he might want to.

And besides, no one ever relished the idea of being a pity fuck, no matter the context.

In the next moment, Jack was brought up short as Ianto’s desperate gasps became sobs. “Please, not against my will. Please. Not again.”

Jack looked sharply at Ianto, who was out of his head with pain and panic. Did he mean… He was horrified by the implications. “Let’s get you to the clean room, then,” Jack said, his voice pitched low as he deliberately forced himself to remain calm. “Try to breathe more normally, if you can.”

It wasn’t easy, but Jack managed to help Ianto to stand, supporting him by the hand still clutching his shirt. He did not try to touch Ianto anywhere besides his left hand or wrist, and Ianto still managed to keep his elbow locked, maintaining that distance between them. Jack would have left him alone if Ianto had turned him loose, but as much as Ianto needed Jack to keep his distance, he also needed Jack near. If Jack were to disappear now, Ianto knew the violence would return, except this time, he would direct it at himself.

Strange as it may seem, Jack’s presence helped Ianto to fight the darkness, even as his presence also triggered it. Jack just hoped that Ianto would not try to harm himself, once they got him on his own in the clean room.

They made their way down a level and over two to the quarantine section. They could see Owen coming out of one of the rooms. He turned and waved them forward. “Go on through the decontamination shower, Tea Boy. That should eliminate any triggering scents. I checked through the viewing chamber – there are scrubs and linens in sealed packages in there.”

“I know,” Ianto gritted, wanting to hit Owen again. “I put them there.”

Owen, sensing that he had drawn too close, stepped back. But it was too late. Jack saw the last of Ianto’s defenses crumble and he pulled the younger man into an embrace.

“No,” Ianto sobbed. “Please, no,” he pleaded, even as he nuzzled into Jack’s neck.

Jack felt his own body responding as Ianto bit into the fleshy joining of his neck and shoulder. “Ianto, it’s time to go into the clean room, okay?”

Ianto bit harder, but then pushed away from Jack with a growl. The two men backed away from one another, and Owen took advantage of the space between them to shut the door, locking Ianto into the antechamber of the quarantine room. Ianto sobbed again, then slowly disrobed before stepping into the decontamination shower that separated the antechamber from the clean room.

In the shower, Ianto attempted to relieve some of his distress. He ruthlessly jerked himself off, and felt ill rather than relieved when he came.

After a thorough, icy shower, he stepped into the clean room, ignoring Owen and Jack on the other side of the Perspex viewing window. Both men were shocked by how frail and thin Ianto appeared. Later, Jack would go into the antechamber and discover that Ianto’s suit had been given some temporary alterations to keep it from just hanging from the young man’s frame. Nothing could keep the clothing from looking big on him, but this was why he wasn’t swimming in the material, and why they had not realized just how much weight he had lost.

For now, they watched as Ianto found the scrubs and quickly dressed, then made up the bed. He collapsed onto it after drinking some water, feeling exhausted and unwell.

***


	4. Chapter 4

The next several hours saw Ianto becoming violently ill. The surfeit of hormones that had flooded his system when the compound took effect had left him dizzy, nauseated, and feverish. He kept a bin close to the bed and had actually pulled a muscle retching into it.

A half hour in, Jack dressed Toshiko in a chemsuit (for Ianto’s protection at this point, as much as her own) and sent her in to help Ianto. She’d been appalled by what Owen had done, and was quick to agree to watch over the younger man. She brought in a clean bin and set the other aside to dispose of.

After thoroughly cleaning the cut that had infected Ianto with the compound, she cleaned the scrapes and cuts on his knuckles from where he’d beaten Owen. She took his vitals, calling them out to Jack to record, concerned at the high fever. Then she drew some blood and passed it through to Jack before starting an IV line.

She sat with Ianto for a moment, mopping his face with a cool cloth. “Just hang on, Ianto,” she said quietly, her attempt at a soothing tone of voice somewhat hampered by the mask of the chemsuit. “Once we start flushing the hormones out of your system, you’ll feel a lot better. You just need to ride this out.”

She reached up and checked the drip. “I’m running the fluids fast. Can you walk to the restroom? You’re going to need to empty your bladder a lot over the next few hours.”

“Just want to sleep,” Ianto protested, closing his eyes since he could do nothing more, to get away from her. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her help; but he knew she must have been told about what had happened, and he felt humiliated and ashamed.

“I know,” she sighed, rubbing his arm. “I’ll leave you a bed pan, in case you feel too shaky to walk,” she offered. “The bag is high volume, so it will take a couple of hours to empty. I’ll be back then with some food, okay?”

Ianto nodded slightly. He was trying not to move any more than absolutely necessary, since moving hurt, and made the nausea worse. He wanted to be left alone, but at the same time, he was terrified of the howling loneliness he knew would engulf him as soon as Toshiko left. He had become convinced that it would kill him, this time.

And he wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t welcome it.

“Here’s an anti-emetic,” Tosh said, surprising him when she spoke again. She injected the contents of the syringe in her hand into the port on the IV line. “It should ease the nausea.” She put the syringe in the Sharps container and headed towards the door to the shower room before turning back. “And here,” she held out a comm unit. “Jack asked me to give you this. It’s a closed comm – just a channel between you and Jack, no one else can tie into it. I think he wants to talk to you.

Ianto sighed wearily and took the comm from Tosh. He was surprised how weak he felt, but the movement triggered another wave of nausea, and Tosh helped support his torso as he heaved into the bin, again. At this point he was bringing up little more than the tiny sips of water he had managed and some stomach acid, and he collapsed back onto the bed, miserable.

Tosh watched him, stroking his hair and wondering if it was more irritating than comforting, being petted by a rubber glove. She had never seen anyone look quite so wretched, the physical illness not even touching the desperate grief and distress he was clearly suffering. And for once, it was all written clearly across his features, since he was too devastated to try to hide it.

She wanted to pull off the gloves and dry his tears and hug him, but she did not want to make it worse, and they had no way of knowing if any whiff of a pheromone might set off Owen’s compound again. Best to flush it out of his system and offer comfort, later.

She felt him shudder and looked him over. “You all right?” she asked, realizing too late what an idiotic question it was.

“Cold,” he murmured. He was shuddering violently.

Toshiko unwrapped a blanket and spread it over him, and then unwrapped another, for good measure. He was still shaking, but the antiemetic was finally kicking in, and he fell into an exhausted sleep. She checked the drip again and left.

***

Ianto jerked awake a few hours later, sitting up fast as the nightmare chased him from his sleep. He sat for a moment, breathing heavily and fighting the vertigo that was making the room spin. Thankfully, his lurching stomach did little more than threaten to turn itself inside out. He sucked in great gasps of air, looking around, frowning.

After a moment, he seemed to remember where he was, and why. He felt eyes on him, so he carefully schooled his expression, hiding the pain and anguish he was feeling. He looked up, and saw Jack had set up a folding table by the Perspex window. He was looking up from a large pile of paperwork, watching Ianto with concern.

Jack held up his comm unit and very deliberately put it in his ear. Ianto slumped. He really didn’t feel up to a conversation with Jack. He held up a hand signaling he’d need a moment and got up from the bed, making his way on shaky legs to the toilet, leaning on the IV stand to keep his balance. When he returned, he slowly climbed back into the bed and stalled for a moment more by reaching for the water bottle on the bedside table. He carefully took a sip, and then another. 

He felt _dreadful_.

Jack watched as Ianto continued to stall. He knew the younger man would not want to talk. He didn’t blame Ianto for wanting nothing to do with any of them, at this point, but it had to be done. Owen’s behavior had been beyond the pale, and the only way back from it was if Ianto could be made to understand what had happened and perhaps be persuaded to forgive it. Otherwise, Jack was at a loss as to how the two could continue to work together.

At length, Ianto could delay no more. He sighed, and Jack saw him steel himself as he put the water bottle back on the bedside table and pick up the comm Tosh had given him earlier. He put it in and Jack heard him clear his throat before speaking.

“Jack.” 

Exhaustion and stomach acid had left his voice hoarse and rough. Normally, Ianto’s voice did strange things to the backs of Jack’s knees. This, though. It was heartbreaking. Something horrible piled onto the worst few months Jack could imagine anyone enduring. And then Jack realized: this was the first time Ianto had ever called him anything besides ‘Captain’, or ‘Sir’.

The backs of Jack’s knees decided to do strange things, after all.

“You all right?” Jack asked, reining in his libido and keeping his voice gentle.

Ianto gave him a look, and Jack could have kicked himself. The younger man’s eyes dropped to his knees, and he picked at the blanket covering his lap.

“Not really,” came the quiet confession. It was the first time he’d ever failed to summon the wherewithal to lie and say he was fine.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “I get that.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, and then Jack forged ahead. “Ianto, I’m sorry this happened. It started out as a legitimate project, but Tosh thinks that when Owen started to break the spray down into its constituent parts, he was exposed to something that affected his behavior.”

Ianto let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, well that makes it okay, then.” But as soon as the anger flared, it faded again. He sniffed.

“That’s…” Jack huffed and ran a hand through his hair. How to handle this, when Ianto clearly believed not only that he was being punished, but that he _deserved_ to be punished. “Ianto, it’s very much _not_ okay. That’s not what I’m saying. I just… I thought you’d want to know why he did it.”

“I know why he did it,” Ianto muttered.

“That’s my point, though. You really don’t.” At Ianto’s dubious expression, Jack continued, “No one else knows this, but he lost his fiancé to an alien, too. Out of everyone here, he’s in the best position to understand why you did what you did. He was angry over what could have happened, but he understood.”

Ianto sniffed, empathy for Owen battling with the resentment and mortification over what had just happened. Did Jack not understand that he’d just made it _more_ confusing, rather than less? At least if Owen were simply a twat, Ianto could just hate him and… What? He frowned. What did he expect to happen here? That he could just move on from this?

_What the fuck were they waiting for?_

Jack didn’t like the slump in Ianto’s shoulders, but he forged ahead. “Toshiko noticed he wasn’t acting quite himself, but couldn’t really put her finger on what was off. When she found out about this, she insisted on doing a full workup. His,” Jack hesitated, and Ianto looked up, his expression unreadable, “His scans weren’t normal.”

At Ianto’s questioning look, Jack continued. “Tosh put him in isolation. He’s having some sort of withdrawal symptoms. She’s walked back through his work and it looks like he’s been impaired since he separated the components of the spray. And he’s been manufacturing one of those components and using it regulate.”

Jack huffed. “Seems one of my people has been compromised, and I didn’t notice.” He grimaced. “Again.”

Ianto groaned. “Please don’t try to make this about you, Jack.”

***


	5. Chapter 5

“Please don’t try to make this about you, Jack.”

Jack frowned, feeling slightly affronted. He wasn’t… But then he caught himself. Actually, he was. Because feeling sorry for himself distracted him from the devastation now slumped in the bed on the other side of the Perspex.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his voice barely a whisper. “I just wish I could keep you all safe.”

Ianto snorted. “What does that even mean?” he shook his head. “ _Safe_ …” he spat the word.

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “But I hate seeing you hurting.”

Ianto looked at Jack, surprised. But he could not endure Jack’s earnest expression and dropped his gaze back to his knees. “Then why don’t you make it stop, already?”

Jack hissed. “I already told you, I’m not going to execute you.”

“But you said you would,” Ianto looked at Jack, his eyes wild and desperate. “You said, ‘execute her, or I’ll execute you both’. And I didn’t. I _couldn’t_ ,” he choked. His breath hitched and he looked pleadingly at Jack. “So you need to keep your promise, Sir.”

“Ianto,” Jack was leaning against the Perspex, resting his forehead against it, his eyes closed. “Gods, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I should never have said that to you.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Ianto said, so quietly Jack almost thought he’d imagined the words. “She… _it_ … needed to be stopped. I just…” Ianto shook his head, which was hanging so Jack couldn’t see his face. “I knew it wasn’t her, anymore. My Lisa would never have…” he choked on a sob. “But I just couldn’t…”

“I know,” Jack soothed. “Believe me, Ianto, I know. You’d fought for so long. And it’s hard to just stop fighting, and admit it’s over.”

“It’s not just that,” Ianto said, his voice still quiet. He was still studying his hands, and Jack wished more than anything that the younger man would just look at him. “I shouldn’t have made it out of there, that day.”

Jack felt a cold chill climb his spine. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I survived the battle,” Ianto answered. “I became convinced it was because I was supposed to save Lisa. _She_ was the one worth saving, not me.” He finally looked up at Jack, and the older man felt as though the marrow froze in his bones. “I only lived, to save her. But I failed.”

Jack had known that Ianto had a crushing case of survivor’s guilt, but he had no idea it had twisted the kid’s perspective, this much. How to navigate it, though? Then he realized. Maybe this was good, in a way. He should have debriefed Ianto after the Cyberman incident, but he never did. In doing so now, perhaps he could guide Ianto through his grief, help him to forgive himself – not just for the fiasco here in Cardiff, but for surviving Canary Wharf, in the first place.

“What if you lived, not to save her, but to join us here?” Jack asked softly.

“Don’t belong here though, do I?” Ianto asked, illness and fatigue dragging at him. He felt himself slipping, losing track of the thread of conversation as he added, “Remember what Owen said, my first day here?”

“’That’s the best fucking coffee I’ve ever tasted?’” Jack smiled as Ianto lay down and tried to arrange himself comfortably, mindful of the IV in his arm.

“No. He said, ’Can’t trust anyone from One.’ That’s what he said,” Ianto sniffed as he closed his eyes. “And he was right, wasn’t he? I’m from One, Jack. Makes me a traitor. Wasn’t on the day, but I got there, in the end. I wonder if it was inevitable. Was I always going to be a traitor, do you think?”

Jack could see Ianto was drifting, now. “You’re not a traitor, Ianto.”

“But I am. I betrayed you. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t want to. Only matters that I did. Only matters that I only survived so I could save her, and then I failed. Only matters that I don’t know why I’m still here, unless it’s to be punished, for failing.”

In the next moment, he must have fainted. Jack was relieved that Ianto was pretty much horizontal when it happened. He could only assume it was a blood sugar thing. Given how thin Ianto was, and he hadn’t been that thin when he’d joined them (Jack may have peeked during the younger man’s physical – mostly to see if he was injury-free, after the battle), Jack wondered when the kid last ate. Then he realized it didn’t matter, because since Owen’s stunt Ianto had pretty much cast up every meal he’d had in the last month.

Jack decided to make use of this time, and began speaking to Ianto in a low, soothing tone. He spoke of forgiveness and survival, purpose and belonging. He briefly worried about the ethics of using a known brainwashing technique, but he hoped that since he was trying to convince Ianto that it was okay that he had survived Canary Wharf (and Lisa), he could be forgiven for the tactic.

***

“No, please.”

It was a quiet, broken, desperate plea. Jack’s head jerked up from his papers and he looked through the Perspex at the young man beginning to grow restless as the nightmare took hold of him.

“Ianto?” Jack called softly through the comms, hoping to wake the younger man. But it was no use.

“Please stop,” there were tears in the voice, now, and fear. And pain. “You’re hurting me.”

“Ianto,” Jack called, his voice louder. When Ianto didn’t waken, he ran to the anteroom and hastily pulled on a chemsuit as, to his horror, Ianto’s pleas made it clear what he was dreaming of.

What he was reliving…

Now Jack better understood the significance of Ianto being desperate that nothing happen against his will.

“Please, Gods – stop!” Ianto cried.

“Ianto,” Jack was finally in the clean room and rushing towards the bed.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Ianto screamed, jolting upright in the bed just as Jack reached him.

To Jack’s shock, Ianto yanked the IV out of his arm and jumped from the bed, making it to the toilet only just in time to heave his meager dinner into it. Toshiko had fed him a bit of broth when he had come round from fainting, earlier. He had drifted off to sleep again, only to be dogged by this nightmare.

Ianto heaved into the toilet for long minutes after his stomach had emptied. Jack knelt beside him, running his hand up and down the younger man’s spine. After a while, Ianto sat back against the wall, a fine sheen of sweat making his face glisten and his scrubs stick to him. The only good news being that apparently his fever had broken.

Jack ran a cool, wet cloth across Ianto’s face, and helped him drink some water. He then put a plaster over the mess Ianto had made of his arm in pulling out the IV. But it was as though the kindness was too much for him. He curled up and began to sob.

“Shhh,” Jack pulled Ianto into his arms and tried to sooth him as he continued to cry in anguish. “I’ve got you. You’re all right. You’re safe, Ianto,” he continued reassuring the younger man, holding him close and stroking his hair and rocking him gently.

Ianto clung to Jack and wept until he calmed. Jack could sense the moment Ianto came back to himself fully, because he stiffened and tried to pull away from the older man’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto muttered, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Jack said quietly. He gently tugged Ianto back into his arms. “Come here, Ianto.”

He cursed himself when the younger man gave a violent shudder. He leant back and held Ianto at arm’s length. “I’m sorry. Is this better?”

Ianto looked so young and vulnerable, in that moment. Jack knew he needed comfort, but he also needed to give permission. Ianto was leaning into Jack’s hands, but holding himself back. He looked…

Jack’s heart hurt. Ianto looked ashamed as he shook his head. “It’s kind of you, Sir, but I have no right…”

“Ianto,” Jack interrupted him, “stop. You deserve comfort, like anyone else. You have to stop punishing yourself.” He tilted his head down to try to get Ianto to meet his eye. The younger man’s head was hanging. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle and low. “When was the last time you were touched? Held? It was the morning of the battle, wasn’t it?”

Ianto let out a sob and nodded, and Jack took that as permission, as well as the answer to his question. Slowly enough that Ianto could still say no if he needed to, Jack pulled him into his arms, hating the chemsuit in that moment. He held Ianto, who was sitting awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act. Jack decided to take a chance.

“Ianto?”

“Yeah?” Ianto stiffened and made to back away again, but Jack gently held onto him.

“What if I take one of my gloves off? If you feel yourself reacting, we can get you to another clean room before it gets bad. But I think it’s been long enough, that you’ll be safe.”

“Why?” Ianto was pretty much just leaned against Jack. He was completely tense, but too exhausted to pull away. He didn’t understand why Jack was doing this.

“Because you deserve comfort, Ianto. And I don’t think you’ve allowed any of that for yourself,” Jack said, pulling his right glove off. He began threading his fingers through Ianto’s hair. “Is this all right?”

Ianto nodded, trying his best not to lean into Jack’s touch. And failing miserably. That small touch, it was the most soothing thing he’d encountered in what felt like a lifetime.

***


	6. Chapter 6

Soon Jack had removed the other glove, and after a while, Ianto was ready to get up off of the bathroom floor. He excused himself to shower and brush his teeth, and while Jack waited, he set out a clean set of scrubs for Ianto to wear. Then he shed the chemsuit, as well as his clothing. Ianto looked mildly panicked when he came back out to see Jack wearing a set of scrubs, as well.

“I don’t understand,” Ianto felt only slightly less dreadful than before, and he was completely muddled.

“Are you feeling okay? No… side effects?”

Ianto took a deep breath and seemed to hold it, for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No side effects,” he said, staring at Jack, still confused. “I don’t understand,” he said again, looking distressed at the conundrum of Jack wanting to take care of him. In that moment, it was literally incomprehensible to him.

“Ianto, I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to,” Jack said, keeping his voice calm and low. “But I hope you’ll let me help you.”

“Do I need help?” Ianto asked, his expression bewildered.

“Come here,” Jack opened his arms wide. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’m always alone,” Ianto whispered, and his pain was too raw to remain hidden. Jack had to force himself not to look away from it.

“That’s not true. Right now, you’re not alone. I’m here, Ianto. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?” Ianto asked, his eyes wide. “I’m lost, Jack. Beyond hope. Beyond redemption.”

“Not possible,” Jack denied, taking a step closer. “I’ve forgiven you, Ianto. We all have, despite what Owen’s actions might suggest.” He took another step as Ianto shook his head and sobbed. “Ianto, you need to forgive yourself. Allow yourself some comfort.”

“I don’t know how,” he whispered.

“This is where you start. Come here,” Jack stepped close enough and pulled Ianto into his arms. Ianto sobbed against Jack’s neck, trembling. Jack choked on his own sob as he realized how thin and frail Ianto felt in his embrace. “Shhh,” he soothed. “I’ve got you, Ianto.”

He felt it the moment Ianto surrendered to that primal human need for touch and comfort, the warmth and care of another. He continued to whisper reassurance as Ianto melted against him, unable to resist the solace of a warm and loving touch. The younger man wept as Jack told him over and over that he was safe; that he was forgiven.

After a long while, Jack led Ianto back to the bed. He piled some pillows up and lay against them, and held Ianto close as the younger man continued to grieve, possibly for the first time since Canary Wharf fell. Jack realized that Ianto had not allowed himself this release – at first because he had to help Lisa, and then later because he felt he didn’t deserve relief of any kind.

Jack once more felt a pang of regret for how he had handled every aspect of the affair, from the initial fall of Canary Wharf to passive-aggressively ignoring Ianto that very morning as the younger man handed him his cup of coffee with his report. He vowed to do better. To _be_ better. He was just relieved he had seen what was happening on the CCTV feed and was able to get to them before Ianto killed Owen.

It seemed to Jack that, having given himself permission to allow and appreciate the contact, Ianto seemed to just naturally wrap himself around Jack, sighing into the warmth and protection he felt in the older man’s arms. Jack tried not to notice how perfectly they fitted together. As much as he had been craving a connection with Ianto, his pain was too profound for Jack to have thoughts of taking any kind of advantage of the situation. He continued to hold Ianto, allowing his hands to trace paths through the younger man’s hair and up and down his back and arms. Ianto continued to lean into every touch.

***

Ianto cried himself to sleep. Jack was sadly unsurprised to see that tears continued to fall as the younger man slept. Toshiko came and set up another IV line and her own tears fell silently as she tended her friend. If she thought it strange that Jack was in bed with Ianto, holding him as he cried and slept, she gave no sign of it. Perhaps she realized the very real danger that Ianto might harm himself, if he had no one there to hold him steady as he grieved.

He continued to weep when he woke. Now that he had finally allowed his grief to flow, it could not be stopped. And he was too exhausted to even try. So he leaned against Jack and just let it all out. After some few hours, he came back to himself enough to take stock, a bit.

For the first time in a very long time, Ianto felt warm inside, rather than cold and empty. He felt something other than the hollow, desperate, howling loneliness that he had become convinced would eventually end him. He felt Jack’s hand smooth down his spine again, and a small shudder that was half-pleasure, half-pain passed though his body. He pressed back into the strength and warmth and consolation and support of Jack’s touch, even as it wrung another sob from him.

Eventually, Ianto slept. Really slept. Jack continued to hold him, kissing his head and stroking his hair and averting nightmares with a soothing touch and quiet word. He continued his campaign, speaking quietly as the younger man slept, telling him that he was safe; that he was forgiven.

When Ianto woke, he seemed lighter, somehow. Not necessarily more at ease... Not yet. But it was as though he had released a great burden. Or begun to. Jack knew it would take a while for Ianto to completely forgive himself, and to properly grieve. But he’d made a good start.

It gave Jack hope.

Ianto sat up and looked around the room. “You obscured the viewing window,” he observed, looking at the Perspex, which was darkened.

Jack nodded. “I know you’re a private person. That you wouldn’t want to feel that your grief was on display.” And he knew Gwen had come looking for them several times. Toshiko had spoken of the former PC’s strop at not being able to find Jack.

“Thank you, Jack,” Ianto gave a shy smile.

“How are you feeling?” Jack did his best to memorize that look, to file it away to enjoy, later.

Ianto drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Not great,” he said, then shrugged. “But better. The nausea is still there, and the headache.”

“You’re still shaking.” Jack reached out and kissed Ianto’s forehead, realizing Ianto was still a bit feverish.

Ianto tried his best not to be reminded of how his mother had always checked him for a fever, but the gesture did conjure a small smile. “And pretty much everything hurts, like a toothache.”

“You need sleep.”

“I just woke up,” Ianto actually recoiled at the suggestion of more sleep.

“You only slept for three hours.”

“And that’s the longest I’ve gone without a nightmare in four and a half months,” Ianto stated quietly.

“Ianto,” Jack shook his head sadly. “Please tell me you’re sleeping more than three hours a night.”

Ianto turned his head and was staring at the Perspex as though he could see out of it. He shrugged. “Not more than two hours at a time.” He rubbed his face and looked at Jack, and now that he was properly looking, Jack could see the weariness and fatigue subtly marring the younger man’s features. “I sleep a couple of hours, then read or watch a movie, then try to sleep a couple more.”

“You can’t keep going like this,” Jack gently chastised.

“Didn’t think I’d have to,” Ianto shrugged again.

Jack ignored that. “Well, if you just slept for three hours uninterrupted, then maybe you can sleep for a few more. Come here. I’ll help keep the nightmares at bay.”

“Jack…” Ianto looked sad and… Jack sighed. Guilty. He looked sad and guilty.

“Ianto, you can get through this. If you let me, I’ll help.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Ianto gave Jack an unimpressed look.

Jack sighed. “You think we don’t care. And you think we were just punishing you, for sport, until it was time to kill you.” He shook his head. “That’s on me. I let it get to that point, that you felt so disregarded, so…”

“Inconsequential?” Ianto offered, and Jack winced. “Don’t trouble yourself, Jack. It was my intention to be invisible. Hardly fair for me to blame you lot for my success at it.”

“But you weren’t invisible, Ianto. I always saw you.”

Ianto had no response to that.

Jack saw that he had taken the younger man by surprise, and he felt emboldened to continue. “The reason I reacted so badly when we discovered the cyberwoman was because I had come to see you as a friend. All those late night and early morning cups of coffee, all those conversations. Did you really think I didn’t care?”

“But don’t you see? That’s what makes it all so much worse,” Ianto said, running a hand through his hair. He hung his head. “I betrayed you, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, “but I’m beginning to think that I betrayed you, first.”

Ianto looked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“I should have done more,” Jack said. “I did nothing for the survivors. Twenty-seven people. It wouldn’t have been a difficult thing, to look after you all. But I didn’t. I resented Torchwood’s ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours’ motto and Yvonne Hartman’s dangerous ambition. It caused so much destruction, including the loss of someone very dear to me. I see now how extending that resentment to the survivors was petty and unfair.”

“You lost someone, that day?” Ianto asked, his voice quiet and sad.

“You lost everyone, that day,” Jack sighed.

“Loss is loss, Jack.”

“All the more reason to help,” Jack grinned as they made their way neatly back to the answer to Ianto’s question of ‘why?’.

Ianto let out a breath that was half amusement, half exasperation, but he settled back against Jack. They lay there together, wrapped up in one another’s arms, and Jack could practically feel Ianto thinking. “What is it?”

“It’s weird how this doesn’t feel strange, at all,” Ianto quietly admitted.

Jack chuckled and held Ianto just a tiny bit closer, in case this was his only chance. “Should it feel strange?”

Ianto shrugged. “I don’t like men, normally.” He felt Jack draw breath and spoke again, preempting the older man’s jibe. “It’s nothing to do with labels, or me freaking out about a sudden identity crisis,” he snarked, and he heard Jack’s mouth snap shut. “Frankly, I don’t have the energy for it, and I don’t care to be judged for feeling a little disorientated. After all, I was half-expecting to die today. And after everything, it seemed a moot point, and not worth dwelling on.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said quietly. He knew it wasn’t fair to judge people for adhering to the mores of their time. But it was just so tiring, the hand-wringing. Jack was happy to help a man discover the joys of expanded horizons, and all that. It was the inevitable panic after that was a pain in his arse, and not in a good way. It always happened with the men who thought they were ‘straight’ (whatever that meant) until they got a whiff of Jack’s pheromones.

He had assumed Ianto would be the same way, and he’d been prepared to weather it, because… well. That’s just how badly he wanted the younger man, that the anticipated aftercare didn’t put him off the prospect.

“I know you hate labels, but it’s not fair for you to mock someone’s confusion. I’m not attracted to men,” Ianto asserted, and Jack believed him. Ianto seemed to know his own body and mind. Jack nodded, feeling slightly disappointed until he heard the quiet confession. “Just you.”

Jack felt a smile spread across his face. “Why, thank you,” he purred, and he could practically hear Ianto roll his eyes. He kissed the top of Ianto’s head and ran a hand down his back. “No, I mean it,” he said, his voice soft. “And I’m glad this isn’t too weird, for you, even if it is… uncharted territory.” After a moment, he asked, “What can I do?”

And he was stunned to realize that this didn’t feel like a burden, or a hassle.

Ianto huddled closer to Jack and sighed. “This is enough, for now,” he breathed. Then his breath caught. He looked up at Jack. “Is that all right?”

Jack sighed. “Ianto, we almost killed you today, through Owen’s carelessness and my stupidity. I have failed you in so many ways. That you’ve allowed me to comfort you is phenomenal, and I’m honored. I mean it,” he added when Ianto snorted. “I get the impression that you don’t let a lot of people see your pain. It means a lot that you’ve let me in.”

Ianto sniffed and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, lowering his head again. Jack could feel the younger man’s weariness in very word, every movement.

He settled them together and kissed the top of Ianto’s head. “Sleep,” he commanded, though his voice was gentle.

***


	7. Chapter 7

Jack was surprised to find that he slept for quite a while, as well. He woke a few hours later, savoring the feeling of the warm body in his arms. He shifted slightly, causing Ianto to pull closer to him, nuzzling his chest and causing a sweet, fuzzy sort of sensation to cascade through Jack’s being.

Jack found he rather enjoyed watching Ianto sleep. It filled him with a quiet peace that he did not experience enough, in his life. He realized several things, in those few quiet moments. First was that with all that Ianto had been through, and considering how he carried himself, it was far too easy to forget how young he was. In sleep, all masks were removed, all barriers were lowered. Ianto looked his age, and it was a bit heartbreaking. Second was that sleepy Ianto might just be the most adorable fucking thing he’d seen in the entirety of his long life.

“Morning,” Ianto mumbled, rubbing his eyes and rather proving Jack’s second point.

“Morning,” Jack smiled. He wasn’t inclined to move, and something told him that Ianto wasn’t, either.

“Problem?” Ianto asked, his voice amused as his eyes strayed towards a rather prominent _situation_ of Jack’s, standing proudly at attention.

“Hey,” Jack chuckled. “Give a guy a break. It’s morning.” He huffed. And, because Ianto was plastered against him, pretty much from neck to knee, he observed, “I see you don’t have the same problem, so you shouldn’t torment me.”

Apparently, it wasn’t quite the thing to say. Ianto moved quickly away from him and sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. But he must have sat up too quickly, because in the next moment he was holding his head in his hands, his elbows braced against his knees as he sucked in great gasps of air.

Jack was beside him in an instant. “You all right? I was only kidding, you know.”

Ianto nodded. “’m sorry I said that. I…” He tried to straighten, but a wave of dizziness washed over him. Jack kept him from pitching off of the bed and pulled him close, tucking him next to him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What’s wrong…” Jack frowned, but then he realized what they’d been talking about. He gave a chuckle. “Ianto, with all the hormones you got swamped with yesterday, I’d be surprised if you had any to spare for the next week, or so.”

Ianto nodded.

“Maybe you should lie back down,” Jack suggested. “The dizziness is probably only a blood sugar thing. Once you eat you’ll be fine, but in the meantime I wouldn’t want you to fall over and crack your head open.”

“I’d like to sit up, please. Just for a minute,” Ianto said quietly.

In that moment, Jack realized just how much autonomy Ianto had lost, the previous day. He decided to give the younger man some ability to choose. “All right.” But that reminded Jack of another thing Ianto had said, about choice. “Can I ask you something?”

Ianto nodded, taking the bottle of water Jack offered him.

“Yesterday, you begged me not to let anything happen. Not against your will, you said. Not again, you said.”

Ianto screwed his eyes shut. Clearly he hadn’t remembered saying that, in the heat of that one, desperate moment.

Jack kept going. “And then the nightmare you had, later in the day… the one I came in here to wake you from,” he stopped speaking as he felt Ianto tense up. “You don’t have to talk about it. Your choice, I promise. But if you do… want to talk about it…” He sighed. _In for a penny._ “It wasn’t a dream, was it? It was a memory?”

Ianto sniffed. “It’s not like you hear about. I hadn’t blocked it out, or anything. I did remember that it happened, in this weird, vague sense. But it was like a perception filter – my mind just kind of slid around the memory, if it got too close. But now…” He let out a sob. “That dream. Now I remember all of it. Every touch. Every…” he shuddered violently.

Jack grabbed the bin, just in time. He held Ianto steady as the younger man was ill yet again. He silently cursed Owen for dreaming up this project that got so out of hand, and was still causing so much damage.

“Will you tell me?” he asked gently, continuing to hold Ianto upright as he handed him a bottle of water. “You don’t have to,” he quickly added, “but it might help you to deal with it.”

Ianto was silent long enough that Jack became convinced he would not speak, but then he drew in a deep breath and said, “It’d never been a particularly safe place to be, but it got worse, after me Mam died.”

Jack closed his eyes and drew Ianto closer, his worst suspicions confirmed. “When did she die?”

“I was fourteen.” He sniffed. “He pretty much stayed drunk, after. The only way I ate was if I went to Rhi’s, but I knew she couldn’t afford to feed me very often. So I only went there once a week.”

“How did you eat, the rest of the time?”

“Some kind neighbors helped where they could. And,” he ducked his head and shrugged. “I stole a lot.”

“Understandable, if you were hungry.”

Ianto closed his eyes at the memory of the hunger that clawed at him almost constantly, back then. “I got a job at the market. They let me have some of the stale stuff. That helped. You know, it still amazes me, how kind people can be.”

Jack shook his head. They gave him stale crumbs, and he was grateful for it.

Ianto sniffed again, swiping at the tears that were falling. “She’d been gone for about three months when he started this weird staring thing. That lasted a week or two when he finally told me that I had a pretty mouth. Asked me if I was I sure I wasn’t a poof…”

Jack smoothed his hand up and down Ianto’s arm, trying to comfort him, in some small way.

“He was freaking me out. I begged Rhi to let me come stay with her, but she said I was being stupid. I tried locking my door, but one night he broke it down…” He gasped for breath. “He was _so_ drunk, Jack. But he…”

Ianto screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. Jack could do nothing but hold onto him so he could find his way back out of the memory, when he was ready. “He beat me until I was too out of it, to fight back. He had a bottle of cooking oil,” he shuddered. “Didn’t help,” he sobbed. “It hurt, Jack. _So_ _much_.”

Jack couldn’t take any more. He pulled Ianto into his arms and rocked him, quietly reassuring him. “It’s over, now. You’re okay. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you, anymore.”

Ianto gave an hysterical laugh. “No, he can’t,” he sobbed. “He fell down the stairs that night. Broke his neck.”

Jack felt his insides freeze, but he kept rocking Ianto. “Did you…?” he caught himself before he said it aloud. “It’s okay, if you did. I hope you know that.”

“I didn’t,” Ianto whispered. “…was bleeding in the bathtub, when it happened. Neighbors heard it, even though I didn’t. Was too out of it. Police broke in. Took me to hospital.” He shuddered again. “I wish I had, Jack,” he confessed. “But I was too weak and pathetic,” he sobbed bitterly.

“That’s not true,” Jack hushed him. “You were strong enough to survive. You were hurt. It’s good that you didn’t. You have a tender conscience,” he smiled at Ianto’s snort. “Which is also a good thing, by the way.”

“Initially, they ruled it a suspicious death. I was actually a suspect, with my spanking new motive.” He shook his head. “Thankfully, it was a new bottle of cooking oil. He bought it special,” Ianto shuddered, again. “Must’ve thought it was a fine joke. _Extra virgin_ ,” he spat. But he couldn’t sustain his anger, and broke down in tears, again.

Jack held him close and whispered reassurances.

Ianto calmed and kept speaking, needing to get it all out, now he’d started. “It was a new bottle, so my fingerprints weren’t on it. He was drunk. Spilled it all over the stairs, then slipped and fell down them.” He sniffed. “Given the state I was in, they ruled it an accident.”

“Did you go live with your sister, then?”

Ianto nodded. “He had a small life insurance policy, through his work. It covered the burial, and there was enough left over that they felt they could take me in. I only stayed until I could leave for uni.”

Jack frowned. “That would have been about four years, yeah?”

Ianto shook his head. “I’ll get you my file, Sir,” he slumped. “That is to say, my actual file. I went to uni at sixteen.”

“Ah,” Jack said, then blinked. “Wow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think it mattered.”

Jack nodded. He reminded himself that Ianto was expecting to be executed, at any moment. It was only fair that he had felt his undoctored personnel file to be moot.

“She never believed me,” Ianto whispered. “About the… the…”

“It’s okay to say it.”

Ianto swallowed hard. “About the… rape. She never believed me.”

Jack sighed. “Your sister?”

Ianto nodded.

“What the hell did she think had happened to you?”

“She made up some elaborate story about me being attacked, and our father being so angry that in running to phone the EMS he fell down the steps.”

“Seriously?”

“DI Davidson said denial was a normal reaction,” Ianto shrugged. “He got me some help, though. I think that’s why it had faded. I’d dealt with it, to a large degree.”

“But the fear of being forced to do something against your will yesterday dredged it all up, again.”

Ianto sniffed, then nodded.

“Wait. DI Davidson?”

“Father of PC Andy Davidson, former partner of PC Cooper,” Ianto nodded. “Small world, yeah?”

“Would he know?” Jack asked. He felt uncomfortable on Ianto’s behalf.

Ianto shook his head. “I was a minor. My records were sealed.”

“Were?”

“I picked up a trick or two, at uni,” he shrugged. “Once I saw how easy it was to get into the records, I decided I didn’t want that out there, for anyone to find.” He took a drink from the water bottle. “Just as well. Yvonne would have definitely used that to her advantage.”

“That she would,” Jack agreed, wondering how Ianto was on first name basis with the director of Torchwood, if he’d only been a junior researcher. But Ianto was flagging, and he knew it was a question for another time. He felt he’d seen enough of Ianto – the real Ianto, the man behind all of those masks – that he understood him. Trusted him to hand that file over, when the time came.

“Tosh will bring some lunch in a while. Why don’t you rest, until then?”

It was telling that Ianto didn’t even try to argue. He wrapped himself around Jack once more and fell back to sleep in a matter of moments.

***


	8. Chapter 8

Jack watched Ianto as the younger man slept, marveling that he had trusted Jack with something he had likely trusted no one else with. It was as terrifying as it was flattering, because Jack was well aware that given his current state, Ianto had just put his life in Jack’s hands. Jack silently vowed to never break this particular trust.

For his part, once he recovered, Ianto could not find it in himself to regret sharing this terrible piece of his past with Jack. From a practical standpoint, it was a matter of survival. Having fully remembered every detail of that horrific night, he’d been overwhelmed. The only way to endure it was to let it out into the light of day.

Well, the light of the hub, at any rate.

In any event, Ianto felt strangely secure in having confided in Jack. No other person alive knew what had happened. DI Davidson had passed on a couple of years ago. Rhi knew, but thought it was some sort of fiction Ianto had created for reasons she alone could delude herself with. Ianto had worked hard to ensure that all police, child protection, medical, and legal records had disappeared. What had happened was now just a matter of memory for a handful of people, most of whom worked within those systems, in which Ianto Jones was just one face among many.

Ianto had discovered that there was a degree of anonymity afforded by an overburdened system. He was not concerned that he would be remembered. So that left Rhi, who diligently ignored all knowledge of the event, and Ianto himself. He found it a comfort that he did not have to bear the burden alone, now. It was a relief to tell Jack.

It was a relief that Jack believed him.

He found himself saying just that as he ate when he next woke. It was just another ache in Jack’s heart that Ianto had carried this on his own, for so long. That his own sister had doubted him. Ianto further confided that he had not even told Lisa about it.

Jack chose to share a small part of his own story with Ianto, to help the younger man know that what had happened – and remembering it – did not make him in any way ‘less than’. That the whole concept of ‘damaged goods’ was complete horseshit – no one got through this life undamaged.

He hoped it helped.

(It did.)

Toshiko had reported that Owen was almost fully recovered, but he had very little memory of what had transpired since he began his project, almost two weeks before. She was confident that this was not an act, given how he had been affected, and the fact that he had been dosing himself with a compound that tended to make Swiss cheese of the short-term memory. Thankfully, she detected no permanent damage. And Owen seemed genuinely confused and was deeply rattled that he had huge gaps in his memory.

Jack spoke with Ianto about it at length, and the younger man decided that it would be unfair for him to hold something against Owen that the cranky bastard couldn’t even remember. He took a page from Jack’s book, and decided to forgive Owen. After all, Jack had forgiven him for a far more serious offense. But if he were completely honest, he also believed he did not have the right to hold a grudge.

While Jack appreciated the result, he did his best to talk Ianto through which motivations were healthy (forgiveness, in general) and which were less so (Ianto feeling he did not deserve to feel wronged, even when he clearly had been). Ianto was growing less muddled as the hours passed and he was able to rest, and Jack was hopeful that they had made some headway in assuaging some of the younger man’s guilt, particularly the insidious survivor’s guilt.

Ultimately, they decided to tell Owen that he had been beaten in a pub brawl, and the resulting concussion had caused the gaps in his short-term memory. The only complication was in convincing Gwen that this was the best solution without telling her precisely what Owen had done to Ianto. But they got there, in the end.

It took Ianto almost a week, to recover. They kept him in the quarantine room, hooked up to IV fluids and nutrients, and either Toshiko or Jack fed him at frequent intervals. He slept almost constantly, and Jack joined him at night to keep him company, let him talk, or just hold him as he continued to grieve.

At the end of the week, Jack took him home, with the instruction that he was not to return to work for another week. Ianto was finally starting to look like he was beginning to recover, and Jack wanted that trend to continue. So it was quite a surprise when, four days later, emerging from his bunker and trying to cast off the shadow of the nightmare that had wrested him from sleep, he spotted Ianto in the hub.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jack said, feeling defensive as he quickly thrust a rose petal into his pocket.

Ianto hesitated, but then with an enigmatic expression replied, “Neither should you.” There was a hint of a smile, then a widening of his eyes before he quickly moved away.

Jack sighed, knowing Ianto was riding a fine line between the hope that their friendship was truly on the mend and the fear that it never could be. He wished the younger man could begin leaning more towards the hope and away from the fear as time passed and he continued to heal.

Jack followed Ianto to the workstation and placed a hand on his back. “What’ve you got?”

Ianto looked quickly from Jack’s hand to his face before returning to the screen. Jack didn’t have time to wince at the uncertainty of that reaction because in the next instant, Ianto straightened up, unconsciously leaning into Jack’s touch. Jack gave his back a pat as he quietly exulted to himself before letting his hand drop.

They were going to be just fine.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here it is. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it - drop me a comment, and let me know! I've been super stressed, so needed to resolve some serious angst with some warmth, comfort, and cuddles. If this fic turned out to be unabashedly self-indulgent, well. Not. Sorry. :D
> 
> I _promise_ (cross my heart) that I'll get back to "Heart and Soul' and "Niffler" soon. Niffler's making some vague whisperings that might get a little louder if I pretend I don't hear them, just yet. But in the meantime I've been pecking away at something that's a bit different, for me - a Ianto-centric fic where he and Jack don't end up together! I know, it's sacrilege, but it ate my brain and had to be written. 
> 
> In my heart of hearts, I want Jack and Ianto to always end up together. But in the entirety of the multiverse, I can acknowledge that there are about three scenarios, where they don't. One was "Unrequited", which clearly I just couldn't live with, since I followed it up with "Unrequited, No More". But in the other two, Ianto gets a happy ending in the arms of a deserving partner that's not Jack. "Winter" will be one of them. I plan to begin posting it tomorrow or next day. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading - be well and stay safe!


End file.
